Betrayal's Second Form
by DarkMist-FallenFog
Summary: Sequel to 'Least Likely Suspect'. Alexander found that fated letter, and now Ptolemy has to deal with the consequences. A king's rage is terrifying indeed, and one needs to be quick in order to stop it without casualties.


I am shocked when I feel someone trying to shake me from my presumably deep slumber. In all honesty it never takes me long to awaken. All a person really needs to do is touch my shoulder and call out my name, be it in a scream or a whisper. Of course, nobody but me knows this small fact. I pretend to be a somewhat heavy sleeper so that future adversaries make unnecessary mistakes. Better to leave a possible enemy unprepared in every endeavor he may try, I always say.

I quickly search my mind for reasons as to why someone would want to awaken me at what must be an ungodly hour. No general would dare enter these chambers unannounced. There have been one too many accidents associated with surprise visits, and the issue was apparently so grand it caused Alexander to proclaim that everybody must give ample warning when going to meet another. This way the accidental death count would be limited and good soldiers could stop dying for stupid mistakes.

For a moment I think that must be who it is. Only Alexander would have the gall to disobey his own rule, and the courage to believe that he would not be in any sort of danger. It is cocky, but not an uncommon attitude for him.

"Ptolemy,"

That voice is what shakes me awake louder than any call, more jolting than any amount of frigid river water. And even though my mind was somewhat incoherent moments prior, now it is at full attention with recognition.

"Hephaestion?" I rub my eyes and try to adjust my sight to the darkness.

It is after a few minutes that I am able to see properly, and am able to determine that yes; it is Hephaestion standing next to my bed. His hair is in a bit of a disarray, and his breath is released in uneven pants. In his eyes is a pleading look, a begging gaze that beckons me to get out of bed instantly. I think for a minute that maybe a lustful dream of mine is coming true. Maybe he has finally seen the light of day and has decided to cast aside his unfaithful lover.

Then I remember the urgency I heard in his voice a second earlier, and immediately I am alarmed. Something is wrong with him. Something has managed to upset him so terribly that he had no choice but to run to me.

I sit up straight and reach out a hand for him to take. "What's wrong?"

He takes the hand offered to him and begins to try and pull me out of bed.

I have to resist slightly. Not because I do not want to follow him, but because I am currently bare of any clothing under the blankets, and by this point they are doing little more than covering my lower half. If that sheet falls while he is in the same room, things could take a very interesting turn. He need not travel down that path if he is not ready for it.

"Hephaestion, it is late, and I'm afraid my ability to understand what you want is considerably less than it usually is." I tell him calmly, and at once he stops the tugging on my hand. "Tell me what it is you need and I promise you I will take to the task immediately."

He sighs, and I am surprised by how shaky the sound is. What is it that has alarmed him so much? What has happened to make him so frazzled of mind? "It's Alexander. He's gone mad."

I should apologize to him for not leaping out of bed as quickly as he probably wanted me to. But, honestly, the remark does not faze me. My dear king has gone mad before. Be it by drink, by lust, or by power, some form of human imperfection always finds a way to take over his mind and make him act foolishly during one of the less serious times we are on campaign. For a short while he is the epitome of evil to his men. He is each and every sin we are warned about as boys, and for a few moments in our lives we that work under him hate him wholeheartedly. However, he always comes back to the king we all know and love, eventually. If not by his own mind revealing the mistakes he has made, then by Hephaestion's own kind words and soft actions. What is different about tonight?

"Is he drunk?" I ask out of politeness. The reason does not interest me in the least. I just want Hephaestion to calm himself slightly with an ounce of reason. If I walk him through enough of the situation, he will likely see how ridiculous worrying is and go to bed. He needs the sleep.

"Yes, but it's more than that." He runs his free hand through his hair, messing it up even more. "He's a raging lunatic, talking nonsense about some huge betrayal,"

My attention is caught. Betrayal is not something Alexander deals with gracefully. Strong of character though he may be, he is also often weak of heart. Being deceived by someone he trusts is the quickest way to turn him into a tyrant, quick to judge and quick to punish. The mind fogging power of wine only makes things worse. And it obviously has gotten worse than usual if Hephaestion is this worried.

"Who does he say betrayed him?"

Blue eyes, so riddled with worry, focus their undivided attention on me. I only wish that the circumstances could be different. "Many. Cooks, eunuchs, Cassander, Cletius,"

Something about those names makes me uneasy. Something about their order puts me on edge as well. Something awfully familiar that my sleep riddled mind is not realizing quickly enough.

"My own men, Ptolemy, he's threatening to execute my own men!"

Now my mind is reeling with what I am hearing. An epiphany comes to me so quickly I feel as though I am going to vomit from the thought. I reel back, now anxious and desperate to mentally locate a certain piece of paper that I thought I had discarded. No, had I left it on my desk? Where was it?!

"Hephaestion," My voice is nearly as panicked as his. "What is the means by which Alexander has discovered this betrayal?" I pray to whoever is listening that is it because of some rumor or drunken mistake. Please be by anything other than my own hand!

But, alas, the truth is far too harsh. "Some letter a page brought to him by mistake. It was meant to be thrown out, but the boy got the piles mixed up during the trip to Alexander's room."

"Has it been signed?"

"No."

I curse inwardly and rush out of bed. I do not care anymore what Hephaestion sees or even if he is still in the room. This is not the time for any inappropriate thoughts. My life, as well as those whom I have indirectly accused of treason of the worst kind in Alexander's court, is on the line. I throw on the first article of clothing I find, a normal white chiton, and look back to Hephaestion. I reach out a hand as I did moments before. He grabs it and proceeds to drag me out of the room in such a frenzy we would have been seen as little more than dust to anyone passing by.

We arrive in front of Alexander's room in as little time as it takes for me to catch my breath. I wonder what it is I can do about the situation I have put myself in. A part of me is perplexed as to why Hephaestion did not name me as one of the men Alexander was ready to slaughter. True I did not sign my name, but surely my king knows my writing, even when he is drunk beyond repair.

I hear glass shatter. I am suddenly aware of the other generals standing before the door in an anxious state. They all look nervous, but Cassander looks sick and Cletius seems ready to head down to Hades himself. I know they must have heard the king shout through the door, promising them their demise on a rusted, jagged platter. I do not envy them, but I must admire their courage for staying put. Normal men would have run away by now. The fact that they remain is a testament to their strength, however small it may be.

Hephaestion turns to me, and as my attention is still fixated on the door, he has to turn my head to look me in the eye. "I need your help."

"Why me?" The question is sincere. What can I do? If Hephaestion is already at his wits end, what can I possibly do to aid the situation?

He doesn't entirely seem to understand his reasoning either. It takes him about a minute of looking in all directions before he is confident enough to look back at me. "You are one of Alexander's closest friends, and you've always been the one we've all come to for advice. More than that, you are a voice of reason even the gods themselves have to admire. I've come to a crossroads as of what to say to him in order to calm him down. But maybe you, an outside party, can get him to listen long enough to think about what he's doing."

I am far from an outside party Hephaestion, and I think you'd be less likely to sing my praises if you knew that I was, in fact, the culprit to blame for this entire fiasco.

Cassander coughs slightly, and I have to tear my eyes away from Hephaestion in order to look at him properly. A small, overly pessimistic side of me thinks that this could very well be the last time I ever see eye to eye with my old school mate. That these are the last few moments where life will be present in his eyes. The very thought frightens me more than I thought it would, and I realize that even though we do not normally get along with every endeavor in the army, I do not want to see the man die. He may be competition, though he does not know it yet, but he is also a friend. A friend that should not have to see his life taken from him because of me.

I wonder if this is what Hephaestion feels towards those who torment him. He may get angry with them, most men would, but he holds his tongue and bites down his words because he knows that such things are unimportant in the long run. What matters most is that we all live to see our final days in peace. That we all stay alive long enough to see our dreams fulfilled and our struggles rewarded. How we act when the goal has not yet been reached is so inferior to the big picture, and letting someone fall because you are angry with them is such a childish way to live life. In fact, it is no proper way to live at all.

And though now is not the time for such things, I find myself falling in love with Hephaestion a little bit more. It is almost scary how one can find things to adore about him even at the oddest of times.

"What is it Cassander?" I manage to say. "Did you want to tell me something?"

"Can you stop this?"

A blunt and straight to the point answer, a very no nonsense kind of response. No sarcastic remarks or taunts of any kind. He must be utterly petrified. Still, he warrants an answer, and even though I know not yet what I can do, I know that I will at least try. "Perhaps."

Cletius snorts. "We don't need a 'perhaps', what we need is a guarantee."

I roll my eyes and try to seem confident. "If you don't want me to try, I can simply stand back and _guarantee_ that you will be on a chopping block first thing in the morning." The threat leaves a sour feeling in my stomach. Again, Cletius may not be my most trusted companion, but seeing him die would do nothing to soothe me.

I wonder, for a moment, if I am being foolish. We had always been taught to take down our adversaries before they had a chance to wipe us out of existence. It was a matter of survival, when war was involved, and hesitating for even a second could ensure your demise quicker than a shout for mercy. You are supposed to think of everything before they do, plan all courses of action, halt any train of minor thoughts, and come out on top no matter the circumstances. In war it did not often matter how that was done.

I was in a war of some sort over Hephaestion, and my toughest opponents were the king and the two generals in front of me. I probably could not take down the king without getting myself killed, but these two-

I stop my thinking before it goes any further. Again, I admire Hephaestion for never using his position to rid himself of his tormentors. The fact that the option is there, always looming, is far too tempting for most men to bear, myself included.

Cletius narrows his eyes at me. I cannot for the life of me see why there is a smidge of concentrated anger within them. I am not the one who was still, at this very minute, wishing him to die a painful death. What is he mad at me for? "As tempting as that sounds, I have a quite a bit to do before Hades gets a hold of me."

I blink at his choice of words, but I do not have much time to ponder them. There is another loud crash from beyond the door and a collective gasp amongst the men standing in front of it.

Cletius, eyes still clouded with slight anger, pointed to the door. "What the hell are you waiting for? Move!"

I feel somewhat indignant but roll my eyes yet again. If I am going to die tonight, I am doing so as the picture of nonchalance. "Of course."

"Do me one small favor before you go."

I raise an eyebrow. "What?"

"Let go of Hephastion's hand."

I most certainly do not whip my head to look down at my hand, which was indeed still connected to Hephaestion's, and I most certainly do not feel my cheeks redden in embarrassment. I will deny such things occurring until the day I die and well into the afterlife. Though I will admit that I do not dislodge Hephaestion's hand from my grasp. I instead bravely open the door and walk inside.

Which, in hindsight, turns out to be a very bad idea. Alexander takes one look at us, drops the pot he had been holding, and goes for my throat with a vicious cry. I have the presence of mind, thank the gods, to move to the side in a swift dodge. The action makes me let go of Hephaestion, much to my disappointment. He takes the opportunity to close the door, and I focus my attention on holding back Alexander.

At this stage in his drunken rage he is all anger. There is no sense to be had in his body. So all he uses against me is brute strength. He forgets that I am just as strong as he is, and I am unclouded by jealousy and alcohol. The hands he had sloppily tried to strangle me with are being kept at bay by my hands on his wrists. His feet are struggling to keep their balance as I meet his force with my own and try to push him back. I do not succeed, but as a result of the two forces we remain in the center of the room locked in a somewhat fixed position.

I narrow my eyes and try to remain calm. "What on earth was that for?" My voice is slightly scolding, made to sound as though I am talking to a child.

He meets my gaze with a snarl. "How dare you touch what is mine?"

His voice is slightly slurred but surprisingly calm though it is viciously cold. I had hoped that this rage had more to do with the amount of drinks he has consumed tonight, but that voice has only shattered my hopes. He knows what the letter contains, and was probably able to gather every little thing it intended to say, written or not. He may be going about this whole situation the wrong way, but he knows full well what he is doing.

I'm concerned, but I try to push down my emotions. "You know I never liked you referring to him as an object." I tell him in as a cold a voice as I can muster and continue on before he can interrupt. "I know he has your heart and you have his, but he is not some scrap metal to be claimed. You know this. And secondly**, I only held his hand**. You read too much into what you're seeing through a drunken haze."

"Why do you feel the need to touch him in the first place? You have no permission to do so!"

I glare at him. Honestly, he sounds like a spoiled brat. "The last time I checked, I did not need _your_ permission to hold _his_ hand. Especially if he allowed me to do so because he required a bit of comfort."

His resolve weakens just a bit along with his struggle against me. "Comfort? For what?"

"You." I tell him bluntly. "You're acting like a raving lunatic," I repeat from memory. "And you won't even explain yourself. Honestly, threatening to kill half of the palace would frighten anybody, and you thrashing about like a rabid dog, breaking everything in sight, does not help matters in the slightest!"

He finally stops pushing against me.

I still hold his wrists encased in my hands. Just as a precaution.

He looks over to Hephaestion. The general stares back at him, eyes pleading with him to listen to what I have to say. "Release me."

"Are you going to settle down?" I have no intention of letting him go otherwise. I would die for the act, surely, but at least Hephaestion would have a chance to escape.

"As much as can be expected."

"Of a child or of a king?"

He glares at me, eyes dangerous and warning.

I let him go slowly. I'm lucky enough to be alive at this point, so pushing things would be a bit unwise. "Now, care to tell me what is going on here?"

His anger seems to flare up at the question, and I fear that I will have to restrain him again. He surprises me, however, by simply screaming something in Persian. I cannot make heads or tails of it at the moment, but I see Bagoas a moment later, hurrying over to the king and handing him a somewhat crumpled paper. He then scampers over to Hephaestion's side. Neither is very comfortable with the arrangement, but it is clear that the eunuch does not want to move. He obviously feels safer by the general who can barely tolerate his presence than he does with the king he lies with.

Congratulations, Alexander, you've become so tyrannical that even your own bed servant does not wish to be near you right now. I shall make the appropriate jokes at a later time.

For now, my dear king hands me the crinkled note and angrily waits for me to read it over. I know what it says, but a small part of me dares to hope that I am mistaken, that this is not all my fault, and I decide to skim it over. My dreams are predictably destroyed when I realize that this is indeed the letter I had written days prior.

Why hadn't I torn the damn thing apart when I had the chance?

"Alexander-" I try to think up something to say, something that might defend me from his wrath. I am surely a dead man, and this must have been a trap. Alexander, you must have known Hephaestion would come to me for help, and you must have patiently boiled your rage for when I stepped through the door.

"Disgusting, isn't it?"

I do not answer. I do not know what to say. Do I apologize? Beg for my life? Hold on to whatever dignity I have left and just admit to the whole thing? Do I run? Do I stand my ground?

"Such blatant disrespect and utter lack of tact, and the air of arrogance is ridiculous." My king goes on to say. "What a terrible life the Gods had seen fit to create."

"Alexander-"

"And, really, what a coward this man is. He does not even have the courage to sign his name."

I prefer the term cautious myself.

"He thinks I cannot determine who he is merely because of a lack of a signature."

I gulp. My mind hurries to find an excuse that might appease him. He is in a calm anger now, but as soon as he reveals me to be the writer, he will surely proceed to tear me apart. That or order a group of guards in to do the job for him just so he does not have to dirty his own hands. If I can defend myself enough I may be able to make it so that I only come out of the skirmish with a few broken bones.

"But he should be well assured that I **will** discover his identity come hell or high water!"

I blink. For a moment my mind goes completely blank. My voice sounds perplexed as I manage to utter out, "Discover his identity?"

"That's what I said." Alexander tells me irritably.

"Which is to say that you do not, at this moment, know who wrote this letter?"

"Congratulations Ptolemy, you have repeated a point I have already stated. Shall I reward you with something?"

His sarcasm is lost on me. "No thank you." He rolls his eyes. "So, just to be absolutely certain, this letter, which was not sent to you in a normal fashion, nor discovered in any specific place, is at this point without a writer you are aware of?"

He places a hand to his head and rubs his temple. "Yes, we have established this already. No matter how many times you say it, the fact remains the same. I do not know who wrote this damn abomination!"

The room is silent for a moment. And then, all of a sudden, without any warning, I find I cannot hold myself back any longer. I start to laugh, very loudly. Hephaestion is shocked, Bagoas looks terrified, and Alexander is so beside himself that he does not seem to know whether to be angry with me or to ask me if I require medical attention. I know, deep inside, that I should quiet myself immediately. I just cannot help it.

I am so relived. So absolutely and completely relieved that I could bend down and kiss the floor I stand on with tears running down my face. I can't believe my luck. He doesn't know I wrote it. He doesn't even have a clue. For all he knows, the thing could be an elaborate fake written to possibly spite the entire inner workings of the kingdom into chaos.

In fact,

"What on earth are you laughing at?!" Alexander's face is red with rage, but now I am far from frightened.

And now, feeling much more confident than I did a few moments ago, I decide to become the actor trained performers would envy. I shake my head after forcing my laughter to slowly disappear. "You cannot be serious Alexander. Tell me this is all some game meant to keep us all on our toes because surely this is not anything close to reality."

Alexander blinks. His drink induced mind is still trying to piece together what I said when Hephaestion catches my eye. His brows are furrowed, his mouth opening and closing as though he really wants to ask me what the hell I think I'm doing. I smirk lightly, silently telling him to trust me because I know what I'm doing. He breathes softly, showing me that he trusts me enough, for the moment, to do what I think needs to be done.

Alexander finally gets his bearings back enough to glare at me and reach for my collar. I let him drag me down a centimeter or two before we are face to face. "Explain yourself, and might I remind you that it is technically treacherous to blatantly mock a king." He growls out, as though that will scare me into suddenly doing everything he orders me to do.

Sorry your highness. I am not here on your order. Not tonight. Tonight I follow Hephaestion's rules and Hephaestion's wishes. So I shall not be backing down anytime soon. "Alexander, would you look at yourself? You're falling apart because of a few harmless words."

"They are far from harmless!" He shouts in my face. "You saw what was written!"

I nod as best as I can. "Yes, I saw a few dozen words written with admiration-"

"Towards Hephaestion!"

"More so towards a Grand Vizier who is worth just as much as you are to the people of your kingdom. Towards a general who commands his men almost as well as you do and just as well as the rest of us in your circle. Towards a friend and confidant of your highness, and he demands a good amount of respect. Did you think anyone would think otherwise? Did you think he was hated by everyone he came across?"

Alexander narrows his eyes. "Of course not."

"Then why are you so surprised when someone shows him any tender affection at all?" I sound exasperated. "Admiration is normal anytime you achieve any level of greatness. You of all people should know this by now."

He does not speak right away. I know he is thinking very carefully about what he is about to say. Part of him wants to destroy me in this match of clever arguments, but he knows that doing so would hurt Hephaestion. With Bagoas so close, my king runs the risk of humiliating his beloved so much further than usual if he argues with me too much. He will not risk it. Even in the midst of an alcoholic daze, he will not run the risk of losing Hephaestion any more than he already has. I have already made myself so much more of a better option, and my dear general has enough sense to pick a lesser of two evils.

So instead he says, "That letter did not speak of admiration. It spoke of distasteful harassment."

Now I find myself glaring. Alexander, you have quite a lot of nerve. "Harassment? _Harassment_?" How could he think that I would ever force my presence onto Hephaestion against his will? "Have you lost your mind?" I shout, pushing him away from me as forcefully as I can without sending him to the floor.

He is shocked by my outburst, but he quickly regains his composure. "Have _you_ lost _yours_? Do you know who you're shoving around? Do you realize who you're talking to?"

"I thought I was talking to a grown man. But if you honestly went through childhood, school, war, and are somehow still this dense, then we have a very serious problem!"

Hephaestion looks as though he is mere seconds away from grabbing hold of my collar and dragging me out of the room. Bagoas looks as though he is mere seconds away from crying. Alexander just looks as if he is mere seconds from tossing me out of a nearby window, or perhaps tossing my body into the fireplace that was built into the northern part of the room. Whatever would take less effort, I imagine, as he was never as strong as he usually was when he could tell what he was picking up. I am too enraged to honestly care either way. I have been insulted, however unknowingly, and a soldier's pride has seen fit to erupt in me. I suddenly feel the need to defend myself.

"It's the middle of the night, you're destroying palace property, making these Persians think that all Macedonians are completely out of our minds," Not that they need any more convincing on that front. The Persian people may have accepted their conquerors, but I know they still think us to be heartless barbarians. Episodes like this did not help matters much. It only fueled their assumptions. "All for one stupid piece of paper! A **nameless** piece of paper might I add!"

Alexander has the decency to look slightly flustered with the accusation.

I continue on without seeming to notice. "For all you know, this could be a subtle trap, something to cause chaos in the ranks without getting hands dirty. And I see it obviously worked to have you in such a frenzy." I narrow my eyes. "Threatening to kill not only Hephaestion's men, your own people, but then you go on to promise to slaughter your friends without reason? Without proof of any kind of wrongdoing? All because you chose to be a dirty drunk right when a jealous fit takes you? What is the name of Olympus is wrong with you?"

He seems abashed. "You read-"

"Alexander." I stop him midsentence. I am in no mood for foolishness, and he can hear that in my voice. "I could read the damn thing a thousand times, and the situation would still be no better." I wave around the letter in front of his face. "This is little more than a very clever way of making you doubt the inner workings of your kingdom. It also so painfully simple that a child could tell it wasn't made with any real facts in mind."

"It names-"

"What it does is make descriptions so vague that they could be speaking about anyone." I shake my head and sigh. It would be best to try and steer his mind away from the people he now suspects of taking visual advantage of Hephaestion. "You cannot, in all seriousness, believe that what you are doing is going to do any kind of good. Hephaestion is worried sick, I am getting increasingly more irritated, and the other generals look as though they are going to forfeit any dignity they posses and drop down to the floor in a sobbing heap." I certainly hope none of them would ever sink that low. However, for the moment it has gotten my kings attention, so the dramatics are well worth the energy. "And all over something I am starting to believe is a childish prank."

"A prank?" His anger has returned. "How could you come to that conclusion?"

This time I am ready for his rage. "How could I not?" I shake my head again. I am hoping to appear tired, and judging by the sorry glance I catch Hephaestion tossing my way, I would say the effort is indeed a success. "There is no name, no major specifics-"

"I told you, it has plenty of names, Ptolemy-"

This time I cut him off. "Well known and very wide spread names around your kingdom. How many people have heard of our generals? Hm? How many people know that Hephaestion controls a platoon?"

He narrows his eyes at me. "And what of the others the letter makes mention of?" I can hear it in his voice. His pride has been hurt. He is starting to doubt his own conviction. From this moment on he'll be pulling on straws just to save face. I might be able to save myself after all. "Who would know such people who have no claim to power or riches or fame?"

"Those who might be at the palace on a regular basis." The lie rolls off of my tongue like the finest of silk used to make Alexander's Persian robes. "And before you get so riled up again, need I remind you of how many people, soldiers and servants alike, who walk through these doors constantly? You'd need to throw a manhunt the likes of which was never conceived of before now if you hope to narrow it down to who it _might_ have been."

He sees my point. Finally, the man is starting to think I may be right. I can tell because his shoulders are no longer held tightly with confidence. Now they are slightly sagging with the realization of a wrong train of thought. He sees the logic in my reasoning, false though it may be. I can see for a quick second how Hephaestion is starting to relax as well. He believes in me and his decision to awaken me from my slumber. For this one moment he thinks I can do anything, including forcing our godlike king into a more humble state. If not humble, then at least a much more sober state than the one he was in before.

Seeing the opportunity at my feet, I continue. "It is much too simple to fool you, my king." I wave the letter around once more. I am quite surprised it has not fallen apart with how much abuse I'm intentionally putting it through. "All it takes is a few false specifics and the right kind of bait." I look to the words I had written in disgust. This time the damn parchment shall be destroyed, right in front of Alexander, and no one will be able to question it. No, no one will even think twice about it because I shall make it seem as though matters would only be settled with such an action. "Look, you might as well replace every name in here with another. Cooks with stable boys, Xerxes with Bagoas, Hephaestion's men with mine, Cassander with Philotas, Cleitus with Nearchus, it's all a mere matter of which words a person feels like writing." I narrow my eyes. "They mean nothing."

"But-"

"Furthermore, look who they have chosen to threaten. If you are so caught up with names, look who this letter has thrown to the lions. People so below your stature that considering them a threat would be pointless." I am sure my fellow soldiers and casual acquaintances will forgive me for the backhanded assault on their character. The situation is dire, and desperate times call for only the most desperate of measures. "You are considered a god, Alexander, and yet you stand here worrying about cooks and boys who have barely left their mother's wombs? What could you possibly be afraid of?"

He does not answer me. I do not think he can at this point, not with any kind of reasonable argument. He will still try, however. It is not in his nature to give up anything without a fight. Arguments he might as well have already lost included. "And if this unknown person means Hephaestion harm?"

"Is it my understanding that you think he cannot take care of himself? That he needs you to do every single little thing for him, and protect him at every second of every day from every little thing that pops up?" I raise an eyebrow. "Because if that is indeed what you are trying to tell me, then we must know two entirely different sons of Amyntor. The one I know is competent enough to run half a kings army, and is therefore more than able to defend himself."

The slight glow of pride in Hephaestion's eyes is gratifying. I know that people have belittled him, made him a weak mass of flesh in their eyes for far too long, and it affects him a great deal more than one would think. He just will not let it show. He will not let others dictate the way he appears in life. If image is all he has left, he will fight to the death to see that his is one he can be proud of. It never hurts, however, to have his ego stroked every once in a while. He, like any mortal man and perhaps even a few choice gods, needs to know that someone out in the world sees his struggles and finds them to be worth respecting. H needs to know that someone caught sight of his survival and has determined it to be something that deserves to be sung to heavens in joy. Usually Alexander is the one to do so, but tonight the honor has fallen to me. I seem to be doing a good job of it, seeing as Hephaestion is trying hard not to smile.

"This needs to stop, Alexander." I try to keep my voice as strict as I can. The small flutter that has appeared in my stomach at the sight of Hephaestion's small pleasure has distracted from anger, but I can at least finish this argument on a good note. Isn't that right, my king? "You are so fixated on what you believe to be happening, you are forgetting that you did not get to the throne by playing pretend. You achieved greatness by focusing on reality, and I need you to do that again." I really and truly hope this is going to end soon. I am getting too tired to talk, and if my resolve is tested any further it might just shatter altogether.

Still, there is a spark of hesitance in those eyes of yours Alexander. Do you even know the meaning of the phrase 'giving up'? Is it too much to ask that you go off and study its finer point's right at this minute? "But, the letter-"

I see you have been gracious enough to give me a chance, haven't you Alexander? How kind of you to allow me an opportunity to end all this without casting suspicion upon myself. Allow me to take advantage of it. "The letter this, and the letter that, let me show you what this dammed letter amounts to!" I crumple the letter in my hand one more time. In that one fistful of seconds, I allow my foolishness to run its course from my mind to my hand. I let the words soak up the idiocy of my actions, and let my betrayal bloom right in the center of my clenched palm. Then I walk over to the fireplace and throw the blasted thing into the rising flames. For just a second, I think I see them intensify.

Alexander is at my side in a minute. "What have you done?!"

Oh my poor delusional king. Did you think I would let that thing live? Fester? Continue to mock me from the safety of your chambers? I think not. "What are you going to do, Alexander? Chase after it into the fire? Lap up the ashes from the flames? Burn your hands so that you have some useless parchment back in your possession?" I see sweet relief, at least, from the situation at hand. A moment ago my king looked ready to dive into fire after my horrible mistake, but my words seemed to have stopped him. He stands still in front of the fireplace now, as if waiting to be told what to do next. "Let it go, my King." I say in a softer tone. "You have no use, or any need, for such a thing." I place my hands on his shoulders and try to guide him to his bed. Surprisingly, he does not try to stop me. "What you need is sleep, and to stay away from the goblet for a few days." I see him nod absentmindedly. I think, your majesty, that you are tired from our conversation. I know I am. "Trouble yourself no more with this matter."

"What I said before." He slurs as I tuck him into bed. "Tell the men I didn't mean it."

Hephaestion steps forward. I see that he now feels safe enough to get at least a bit closer to his drunken lover. "I will take care of it. Everything will be as it should be when you wake up tomorrow."

"Or perhaps the day after." I say with a small smile. "However long you will need to nurse your soon to be aching head." I pat the mop of golden hair, and you look back at me with such a kind smile, Alexander. You are no doubt thanking me in your mind. I wish I could tell you it is grossly misplaced. I am not the one to thank. I am the one to blame.

"I'm sorry, Ptolemy." You say sincerely. "About everything."

I wave off the apology as though I have not spent the better part of the hour trying to save my own skin. "Don't mention it." I turn away from you, Alexander, so you will not see the look in my eyes. I still am not sure if you a god or merely a mortal man, but I shall risk nothing tonight. I am almost free from your wrath. I would hate to have one look spoil it all. So instead I turn my attention to Bagoas. "Make sure he is comfortable, and then get to wherever it is you're going to sleep tonight." And may the gods show pity on you if it is in this room. I have no time to see that the king's bed remains empty. I need to get the men sorted. But boy, if I see Hephaestion looking sadder than usual come morning, you are going to find yourself very sick. And if I need to ask for help to see that the job is done correctly, then so be it. Xerxes, if no one else, would never question me on matters when his favorite general is concerned.

Hephaestion's voice interrupts my thoughts. "Joy to you my king." He says as he grabs hold of my wrist. For the second time that night, he begins to drag me out of a room. "We'll let you rest." I mutter a similar farewell before the doors to the royal bedchamber are closed.

I am not shocked to see the men still huddled around the door. Their faces are still as anxious as when I last saw them, all looking to me for some sort of good news. Thankfully, this time I can give it to them. "Calm yourselves men." I say soothingly. "Everything is all right. None of you should find yourself on the execution block." At least not from that accursed letter.

Cassander does not seem to fully believe me. He turns to Hephaestion, a clear desperation in his eyes. "Is this true? Has Alexander come to his senses?"

The smile Hephaestion gives them is enough to put them all at ease. For all the trouble they give him, his is the first word they will take as law after Alexander's. They would believe no one else but him in matters such as these. It is a mystery to me, then, why they do not give him enough ample respect for that. "What he says is true. Thanks to Ptolemy here," He tilts his head in my direction. "Our king has seen the error of his ways. He's asleep right now, and I assure you that no rage will greet any of you upon his awakening."

There is a very large collective sigh.

I try hard not to let my relief show as well. "That's enough standing around." I tell them playfully. "We've all got a big day ahead of us, and once the sun comes up we won't get a moment's rest. We'd better get to bed while we still have the cover of darkness."

The crowd begins to disperse. Some give me a friendly wave, others offer me a drink at a later time, but soon all are out of sight. I decide, when the numbers have dwindled to just Hephaestion and I, that I better see myself back to my room. The night's activities have me so exhausted. I may, if allowed, not wake up for at least three days. I do not even want to think about what could have happened or what might have been. I just want to rest. Rest and pretend that this was all just one large terrible dream that I should learn a lesson from.

However, as I turn to go back to my chambers, I realize that my wrist is still encased in Hephaestion's hand. And he does not seem inclined to let it go. "Hephaestion?"

He looks down to the floor. "Do you remember when we were young boys?" His question catches me off guard. "Back when we first met. You had trouble pronouncing my name."

I blink. "I had just never heard it before. That's all."

"You used to call me another name, a shorter version of mine, until you got the hang of it."

I remember. "Phae." I used to make use of it all the time. It had been something of a special thing for the two of us, because no one else was ever really allowed to call him that. Mostly because everyone else could say his name correctly the first time without issue, partly because he did not seem to like anyone else saying it with the same frequency as I did. Well, until my dear king decided to make a permanent claim on it, and therefore became the only one allowed to use it whenever he wanted. "But why-"

"I never told you this," He interrupts me. "But I used to be very fond if it. When we'd all get into trouble and I found myself panicking, all you'd need to do was call me by that name, and I would instantly feel at ease."

I have to force my cheeks not to redden. It would be most inconvenient if that particular reaction were to show itself at this time. So I just decide to smile. "Thank you. I'm very flattered."

He still will not look up at me. "Do you remember, back when we were still studying with Aristotle, how frightened I use to be of storms?"

Our classmates used to tease him about that mercilessly. "I do."

I can see the shadow of a smile. "Every other boy in the room would make fun of me for it. They'd make up names, sing little songs, and smirk when they saw it upset me. But you, you never so much as said a harsh word against me, though I suppose I was being rather childish at the time. And one night, when we were all camping outside and that fierce storm broke out, forcing us to take shelter inside of a nearby cave, you never once scolded me for being afraid. Even when I clung to you and started to cry, you didn't push me away."

I would have never dreamed of doing such a thing. Even back then I loved him. Even if it wasn't necessarily in the romantic sense, he was still one of the most important people in my young life. "That would have been cruel, and I was actually quite fond of you and your messy hair. Before you began tying it up I mean."

He laughs. "You let me sleep next to you that night, remember? I'm sure I must have split one of your ribs in half with how tightly I was holding onto you."

I scoff. "Nonsense. You weren't strong enough to do something like that back then. Bruise them a bit, maybe, but break? Not a chance." He laughs again, and I am glad to see that my humor has reached him. "It was a comfort for me as well. I wasn't scared of the lights or noises going on around us, but they certainly did unnerve me."

"I just wanted to let you know," He shakes his head. "I really just wanted to thank you for all of the comfort you gave me as a boy. You don't know how much I appreciated it, or how much I still appreciate what you do for me." He finally picks his head up. I see that there is indeed a smile on his face. A smile that could bring Aphrodite down to her knees in awe of its beauty. "Please don't think me too selfish, but I was wondering," He begins softly. "Could I borrow a bit of that comfort once more?"

It takes a short second for my brain to start functioning properly again. Once it does, the suggestion hits me at full force, and though I try I cannot seem to stop myself from grinning like a lunatic. "You want to sleep in my bed?" I turn towards the door we have just run out of. I really should not take this into serious consideration. I have only just freed my head from the mouth of the lion. Am I really so willing to put it in back in after so short a time? "Well, I normally wouldn't consider a king's rage a storm, but I'll make an exception for you." Apparently I am. I turn back to him, basking in the slight glow of red on his cheeks. "So, Phae, which room shall we reside in tonight? Yours or mine?"

The answer comes quickly. "Yours. Mine is too close."

Ah, did you hear that Alexander? He finds his room to be closer to you than he is comfortable with at the moment. Yet, he sees no problem with sharing an intimate space with me. I'll forget, for the moment, that this is a strictly platonic and innocent request. It is more than you shall be receiving from him tonight.

Without another word between us, I allow him to gently guide me back to my room. It occurs to me how unfair I am being to you, my king. You do not allow him to lead you anywhere anymore, do you? You used to, but the sudden influx in power has clouded your vision a bit. No one can walk in front of you, and most of us can barely be granted permission to walk beside you.

He leads me, as relaxed and confident as I have ever seen him, towards a place I never thought the two of us would ever venture to together. In all fairness, up until this day, I had every right to believe that a moment like this would never come to pass. Hephaestion is loyal to an absolute fault. He will never think to betray the worst of his enemies once a promise is made, let alone those he considers the closest to his heart. He is careful, more so than any other man I have ever known, to never let his actions or inaction's cause another man harm. But by doing so he leaves himself in an awful state of vulnerability. He will not hurt others intentionally, and because of that others see perfect fit to hurt him without a second thought.

I am amazed, as we travel down the halls of the palace, when a realization dawns upon me. In order to do as he has suggested, however innocently the situation is, he must think of me as more than a comrade. As something more than just a simple friend even. To him, it seems, I am comfort clothed in a man's skin. It might even be that in me he sees the possibility of protection, since he realizes I am one of the few who will freely give it to him.

What does that mean for you Alexander?

I feel a familiar sense of nostalgia rush over me when we reach the door to my room, and it all but consumes me when we step inside. We had made trips similar to this one when we were both much younger. Back when we had never known that death, in all her miserable glory, could overtake anyone close to us in the blink of an unwatchful eye. As he has said once before, Hephaestion used to be a very timid child. Not of the dark, or even of the unknown, but of the sights and sounds that signaled the presence of Zeus himself. Something about them struck my friend as rather ominous, and when the god was suggested to be his prince's real father, well, it only fueled to unnerve him more. It is understandable. How could a mere mortal be at ease amongst temperamental gods?

He used to come to me for guidance and reassurance. Alexander, I do not pretend to know what you would have done in my position, if he had come to you instead of me. You were an awfully selfish child. I imagine that you might have wanted to hoard him, keep him to yourself because you were lonely. Oh, you would have soothed him, told him everything was alright, and of that I have absolutely no doubt. But your methods would have only managed to stunt him. Your way would have made it so that it would have been impossible to find comfort in someone else. Made it so that the aid of others would have been rendered useless. Such a brilliant and highly effective technique. The conqueror in you would have been proud if you had been given the opportunity.

You know that I will never be able to work that way. It is simply not in my nature. It would be convenient to have a deity like him depend on me, certainly, but I have always thought it to be far too cruel to lower a man to his knees if he did not properly deserve it. I do not offer food with the knowledge that the one I give it to must now rely on me to survive. I, instead, teach the man to hunt for himself so he may eat when I am not present. It is my way of seeing who cares enough about me to eat at my table just because they want my company, not the sustenance I can provide. That was precisely what I used to do with Hephaestion when we were children. He would come to me when the bullying got too intense, I would defend him for the day, and then later teach him how to handle the tormentors when he was by himself.

He has yet to turn down invitations to meals, if you understand what I am implying.

I close the door, and at once the tension in the air is too much for me to handle. Hephaestion seems at ease, though, and finally let's go of my hand in order to make himself more comfortable on my bed. The way he tosses himself upon it, as if it were his own, makes me freeze by the door. I want to move, but a part of me is still wary of doing so.

I take a breath to steady my beating heart. If the moment was to be ruined because my body chose to betray my emotions, I might just go on a rampage myself. "Are you sure you want to stay here?" I ask casually. "If you're scared of him starting a tantrum again-"

He holds up a hand to silence me. "I'm not scared of him stating anything more tonight. I think you did a very fine job of tucking him in." I hold back a chuckle. "I just don't wish to be reminded of a time I nearly lost a good number of important people all in one foul swoop."

My body moves on its own. It carries me over to where he lies and a hand reaches out to ruffle his hair. "You know he didn't mean a word of that?" And truly, Alexander, you didn't. You just do not think before you act out on your more illogical emotions. "You know he is hurt too easily, and alcohol does nothing to make matters any better." Which leads to the question of whether or not I need to find a way to make you cut down on your consumption, my king. "He probably won't even remember half of what went on tonight."

Hephaestion laughs. "True. It's too bad the same cannot be said for the rest of us. I don't think we'll forget about this night for a long time to come."

Well, I cannot speak for the rest of us, but I know **I** will never let this evening slip from my mind. "You were very worried, weren't you?"

He nods. "I was so frantic I didn't know what to do. A part of me wanted to stay with Alexander, make him listen to reason, but a bigger part of me wanted to forget about it and run. Run and find Xerxes, my men, and anyone else I might have been able to save. Find them so I could take them as far away from here as I could."

I take the hand from atop his head and place it on his shoulder. "You're a good man Hephaestion. Don't ever doubt that."

He clasps one of his hands over mine. "I thank the gods that I had enough sense to come to you." He looks up at me, and the platonic love in his eyes is strong. "I couldn't come up with anything that would stop him. You did."

I am the one who got him started in the first place. It is only fitting that I be the one to stop him. "You asked me to. I never break a promise when it's you who's asking it of me."

He gives my hand a squeeze. "I can't thank you enough."

I smile. "You can thank me by going to sleep. Your eyes are far too heavy for my taste, and your shoulders have yet to stop hunching." I push him down against my pillows. "Sleep."

He pulls me down beside him. He is very playful tonight, likely because he is trying to forget the fear he experienced moments before. I decide to not make a comment about it. In these types of situations, it is often better to play along. It makes things easier for everyone involved. So I do not fight him. I also do not think of saying anything when he brings himself closer to me. He is seeking a source of warmth that will not burn him altogether, and I will not deny him anything right at this moment.

It is because of this that I must apologize to you, Alexander. I am betraying you, have betrayed you once already tonight, and though the crime is not severe, it is noteworthy enough. I am sorry that I am not as worthy of your trust as I should be. But I am not sorry about the man in my arms. And make no mistake about it.

I never will be.

* * *

**Wow. I can't believe I wrote that much for just a sequel. It probably would have been better of as some smaller chapters, but fine, this works too. Tell me what you think.  
**


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